


turn around

by haders



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23401234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haders/pseuds/haders
Summary: “But I think when I go home I’ll be pissed at myself if I didn’t say this,” Richie continued, letting out a shaky sigh. “I kinda wish something could’ve happened between us.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 207





	turn around

**Author's Note:**

> I'm watching Brooklyn99 while self-isolating and the Peraltiago convo at the end of S1 got me going so here you go.

Richie and Eddie were leaving Maine at the same time because of course they were. They both had a long drive back home, Richie to Chicago, Eddie to Manhattan. The rest of the Losers were hopping on flights, even Ben despite Eddie offering him a ride to Penn Station, but he shuffled a bit before declining and casting more wistful eyes at Beverly. _Ah._ _Gotcha, new kid._

Everyone piled out of the townhouse to say goodbye from the porch after they exchanged long hugs and promises to keep in touch. Then Richie was tugging two of Eddie’s _monstrous_ suitcases behind him, making a show of it. 

“Why did you bring _bricks_ to Derry?” He huffed and heaved, wiping sweat from his brow. “And why didn’t you offer to bring them to the clown brawl? A brick to the head might’ve got It in one.”

“You didn’t have to help me,” Eddie grunted, seemingly unbothered by the own weight he was pulling behind him. “You _offered_ , dickhead. Even told Ben to wait on the porch.”

“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta sit around and look pretty,” Richie wheezed and collapsed against the side of Eddie’s car. “Still got an inhaler in here somewhere?”

“Are you fucking—”

“Oh yeah, thrown in a fire, sorry, too soon,” he quipped, cheeks hurting as his smile turned into a shit-eating grin watching Eddie’s face turn bright red. Despite the reaction, Eddie was fighting back a smile, popping open his trunk and heaving a suitcase into the trunk. As Richie went to follow, Eddie pushed him aside and took the luggage. 

“Lift with your legs, asshole,” he grunted. 

“Ooh I love it when you talk dirty to me, Eds,” Richie sighed dreamily. Eddie punched his shoulder, _hard_ , and he yelped in pain. 

After Eddie put the last bag into his trunk, he tossed his toiletry bag on top and turned toward Richie who still hadn’t moved from the back of his SUV. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot, anxiously pulling at the strap of his duffle bag hanging off his left shoulder. 

“Look,” Richie began, voice wavering a little as he glanced up at Eddie with a forced smile. “I don’t want to be a jerk, I know you’re married and everything, it’s just—”

Eddie hadn’t really seen Richie at a loss for words before. If anything he steamrolled past any social cues and delivered whatever cutting joke left his mouth. He remembered even seeing Richie’s eyes widen after a particularly rough quip, as if he almost didn’t realize what was coming out of his mouth before it was already out there. To see him choosing his words carefully now was strange to say the least.

“What’s going on, Rich?” Eddie asked, voice quiet and concerned.

“I uh,” Richie huffed out a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “I didn’t know what was going to happen yesterday. I mean, alien clown thing, back home in our murder-death town. I don’t know—”

“Rich,” Eddie started again, but Richie shook his head. 

“But I think when I go home I’ll be pissed at myself if I didn’t say this,” Richie continued, letting out a shaky sigh. “I kinda wish something could’ve happened between us.” 

A beat. 

“Romantic styles,” he huffed out another laugh. “And I know it can’t because you’re married and we’re both going back home and it’s just— that’s how it is, but—”

Eddie’s eyes were wide, lungs constricted, mouth agape just an inch, but no words came. He was numb, replaying Richie’s words over and over in his head. 

“Anyway, I gotta hit the road,” Richie muttered, eyes searching Eddie for any sense of a reaction, but none came. “Have some dates in Reno coming up. Guess America needs me!” 

Richie laughed half-heartedly at his own joke and took a step back, waiting another beat for anything, but Eddie was still mute. He sighed heavily, waving a dorky goodbye as he turned and walked to his car. Once the car door shut, Richie winced, closing his eyes tightly and putting his key in the ignition. As soon as the car started he was reversing out of his spot and hitting the road, being careful not to look at Eddie, who was still standing at the back of his SUV, staring. 

As he merged onto the highway, he turned on his radio, blaring the volume to drown out his already boiling anxiety. The panic was coming fast. For the amount of times young Richie imagined telling Eddie Kaspbrak how he felt, he never imagined _silence_. A punch to the face, the gut, or even just a wince and an ‘I’m sorry, Richie’ or ‘Ew, gross’, but never _nothing_. 

That was the spark of Eddie and Richie; they were always at each other’s mercy. They always had a quip, a retort, something to slap back. If the sun didn’t go down, if they didn’t need sleep, if the world stopped spinning, they could go on forever, stuck in a juvenile insult feedback loop. 

He was jolted out of his thoughts as his ringtone cut through the music in the car. He blindly fumbled for the button on his steering wheel to accept the call. 

“I know, I know, I’m on the road, Steve,” Richie groaned on auto-pilot, not exactly in the mood for a lecture from his manager. 

“‘ _Romantic styles’_?” Eddie’s voice replied, quiet, sincere. 

Richie’s stomach flip flopped. His tone was enough to make Richie hope, which was going to make this all worse. Maybe he didn’t need a reaction anyway. They could just pick up where ever their friendship left off, just communicate through the group chat that no doubt Bev already started when she saw Richie’s car pull out of the townhouse lot. 

_“_ Rich? You hear me?” Eddie’s voice pulled him back from the panic. 

“Wha— I, uh, yeah,” he lied, hands gripping the steering wheel tight. 

“Turn around.” 

“What?”

“Turn the car around, dipshit.” 

“No,” Richie said back, petulantly. Then he hesitated, “wait, why?” 

“Because I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

“Do _what_ over the phone?”

“And like 95% of accidents are caused by talking on the phone. Knowing you you didn’t even pull over and—”

“It’s hands-free, you little—”

“Doesn’t matter, Rich! Bluetooth is included in that statistic and don’t say I just made it—”

“Eddie,” Richie yelled, pulling off at the next exit and pulling into a nearby parking lot. “Do _what_ over the phone?” 

“I’m getting a divorce,” Eddie said. “I filed before I left for Derry. Right after I got fucking t-boned from talking on the phone while driving.”

“I pulled over,” Richie replied automatically. 

“Good, that’s— uh, good,” Eddie muttered. Richie could almost see him pacing. 

“Eds?”

“Yeah?” 

“I’m turning the car around.”


End file.
